Lance Helps Out
by Cuthalion97
Summary: The members of Voltron are tired and not performing with their usual excellence. Lance decides to fix everything up. He and Hunk work out a plan . . . Perhaps unsurprisingly, this does not go quite as planned. I am hoping this feels like an episode. Please review and let me know what you think, especially as this is the first fan fiction I've ever written. :)
1. Chapter 1

**An apology, in advance, to anyone who gets a great many e-mails as a result of my reformatting - there are a few stories I published on here as 'one-shots', mainly because I had no idea how to use this site, and I decided to divide them into chapters. ;) Thanks for your patience! :)**

The blue paladin sat on the observatory deck, staring out at the stars. The ship was quiet at this hour of the night . . . or what passed for night in this far corner of the universe. Lance sighed, resting his head on his knees. He had removed his helmet, but still wore the rest of his armor. They'd finished their mission hours ago, but he had gone to the training deck to work off some excess energy, and then he'd simply been too tired to bother changing.

Lance glanced up, moving only his eyes. The rest of his face remained smashed against the cool armor. Okay, if he was being truthful with himself, he had actually gone to the training deck to work off a fair amount of annoyance and exasperation. The mission had been quick, easy – they should have had no trouble at all. In fact, they had only formed Voltron at all because it was quicker. The five lions could have taken down the two Galra cruisers easily enough.

Voltron, using the sword, had smashed through the ships' defenses and taken them down within five minutes. Trouble was, they _should_ have been able to take them down within a much shorter time span – say, a minute and a half.

Lance didn't know if the others had sensed it, but there had been a lot of friction in their bond today. He had been able to sense Hunk just as always, and they worked together seamlessly, which was good, seeing as how Voltron really depended on them for balance and speed.

Shiro had hesitated three separate times in as many minutes over relatively simple things. . . which ship to attack first; whether the sword or the shoulder cannon should be used; whether or not to have Pidge scan for possible distress signals from the Galra – which had become almost standard procedure up until today; and when they had won the battle, he seemed reluctant to disband Voltron.

A thought struck Lance, and he sat up a little straighter. Perhaps Shiro hadn't wanted to disband because he realized something was wrong with their bond, and he wanted to figure it out. Maybe he didn't realize that he was a big part of the whole 'wrongness' thing.

Then there was Keith. He had been unusually aggressive today, at one point nearly throwing Voltron off-balance as he struck with the sword. Part of this, Lance was sure, was the fact that Keith had sensed that something was wrong with Shiro. . . but that wasn't all of it. Lance frowned thoughtfully, trying to piece together what had gone on.

The two cruisers had been prison ships – empty of prisoners at the moment, but still prison ships. Hey, maybe that's what had gone on. The ships, coupled with the fact that Lance _knew_ Shiro hadn't been sleeping well, could account for Shiro's distraction and edginess. Keith would have been sensitive about it, too, seeing as how he was always aggressive towards anything that bothered Shiro. Yep, that totally made sense. And besides, Keith had been pretty grumpy the past few days, which probably meant that he was brooding over . . . whatever. It was always something.

And Pidge? Ooh, prison ships – same problem with her. She probably had thought of nothing but her dad and Matt during the battle . . . Which would explain why she had been so worried about whether or not the ships were actually free of prisoners, even after Coran had reassured her five different times. Her piloting had been erratic, and when Lance approached her after the mission, she had snapped something about being really busy.

Lance got to his feet, annoyance surging in his stomach. Those three needed help, and he should check with Hunk to see if he was feeling all right – he couldn't _believe_ he hadn't thought of that yet.

The paladins hadn't really talked in a few days now. Pidge had been working feverishly at her computer stuff, except during training times or when she was forced to eat. Lance didn't even know if she'd been sleeping more than a few hours a night. Definitely have to check up on her. He should have done it ages ago.

Keith, well . . . Hunk might have some ideas. Shiro? Again, talk to Hunk. He was usually better at helping people out. Maybe he could give Lance some hints.

With a determined nod, Lance marched to the doorway of the observatory and walked right into Coran.  
The advisor raised an eyebrow. "Lance? What are you doing here?"

"Uh. I was thinking . . .?"

Coran hopped from the doorstep to the floor, looking as neat and dapper in the middle of the night as he did first thing in the morning. "Ah. Well, this is an excellent place to think. I was on my way to check our position. Care to join me?"

Lance trailed after him and caught sight of his helmet. "Oops, forgot this. Hey, Coran. Do you –?"

He hesitated. Coran pressed a few buttons and brought up the three-dimensional star chart. "Yes, paladin?"

"I was just wondering if you'd noticed anything . . . strange . . . about anyone lately. Y'know, unusual."

"Mmm – can't say I have." Coran made a few notes on his datapad and added, "Then again, I haven't had an actual conversation with any of you paladins for several days. Everyone's been so busy. Is something wrong?"

Lance shrugged. "I don't know." He followed Coran from the room. "I just feel like everyone's a little on edge lately."

Coran pulled at his mustache. "Hmm. There _have_ been rather a lot of missions lately. I'll speak to Allura about it. See if we can take a few quintants off." "Thanks!" said Lance, brightening considerably. "And I'll see what else I can do to help. 'Night, Coran!"

"I suggest that you get a bit of sleep," Coran called after him.

Lance glanced over his shoulder. "That's what I meant. 'Good night.' You know, like – have a good night? Pleasant dreams? Sleep well?"

"Please do!" Coran replied with a friendly wave, as he turned into another corridor. Lance gave up.

The next morning found Lance barging into the kitchen, whistling loudly. Hunk looked up from the counter, where he was mixing a bowl of bright pink batter. Lance lifted his left eyebrow impossibly high.

"Hunk, what _is_ that?"

Hunk lifted a large spoonful and let it drip back into the bowl. "Uh, I was trying to make pancakes, and they turned out this weird color, but I think they'll still taste good. Wanna try some?"

Lance perched on the edge of the counter. "Sure." He pulled a plate of cooked pancakes closer to himself and grabbed one. "Got any syrup?"

Hunk sighed. "No, but I wish I did. None of the planets we've gone to have anything like it. Well, nothing that tastes like maple, anyway. We've got jam. . ."

He shoved a jar over, and Lance slathered it liberally over his pancake. He pursed his lips, staring at it. A neon pink pancake with bright green jam. Yep, his life was officially weird, no use denying it.

Hunk watched him anxiously as he took a tiny nibble and chewed, eyes screwed up in concentration. Then Lance's face cleared, and he inserted the entire pancake in his mouth.

"The'th'r'ood."

Hunk frowned, confused, and Lance swallowed loudly. "These are good," he repeated, then grimaced and pounded his chest a couple of times. The pancake had taken up residence right below his collarbone. "Ugh."

Completely unsurprised, Hunk handed him a glass of water and went back to frying pancakes. "Good. I wanted to make something more traditional – you know, like we had back home."

Lance shook his head. "Buddy, these pancakes are 'way better than those cardboard circles the Garrison served."

Hunk looked horrified. "No, no, I meant like what we used to have at _home_."

"Yeah . . ." Lance sobered for a moment before perking back up. "Anyway, they taste just right. No one'll be able to tell the difference, once they get past the color, anyway."

The kitchen was silent except for the sizzling of Hunk's griddle. Lance quietly snitched bits of pancake until Hunk pulled the plate away.

"Leave some for breakfast," he ordered.

"Fine. Hey, Hunk – I wanted to talk to you about yesterday. Voltron . . ."

"You noticed too, huh?" Hunk scratched his head. "I guess everyone's just a little out of it."

"Well, yeah, and normally that wouldn't be a huge deal," said Lance, propping his elbows against the counter behind him. "But we were lucky it was only a couple of ships yesterday. We can't risk that kind of – of _disunity_ when we're on missions."

He walked his fingers toward the plate, and Hunk slapped them away as he asked, "But how do we fix it?"  
Lance pouted. "I was kind of hoping you had some ideas. If I'd paid attention to this earlier, like I _should_ have, it wouldn't have gotten this bad. I mean, Shiro normally mentions anything we do wrong, and he didn't even notice this time!" He slumped a little. "I guess I'm really not doing a good job at supporting the team."

Hunk stirred the batter for a moment before replying. "Uh, Lance – we're all supposed to support the team. It's not all on you, you know."

Lance turned to face him. "Hunk, you and I form the legs of Voltron. We're all _about_ support and balance! I mean, you did great yesterday, but we were like the only ones working together."

He paused, watching with a detached eye as a pancake near the edge of the griddle blackened and burned. The two paladins stood motionless in the kitchen, their minds almost visibly clicking, until the scent of smoke filled the air.

Lance pointed, and Hunk yelped at the sight of the pancake.

"Why didn't you tell me?" He chipped the disaster off of the griddle.

Lance continued to stare into space. Prison ships upset Shiro and Pidge; an upset Shiro made an upset Keith; upset head and arms of Voltron was an overall bad idea; therefore, it needed to be fixed. But they couldn't just avoid prison ships altogether – and he couldn't just order the others to _not_ be upset near them. Then again, they'd been doing so much better . . . which meant that something else was wrong as well . . . The events of the past few days blurred into his head, and he realized, all of a sudden, that the problem was actually simple to fix. Everyone was simply overworked and tired.

"I've got an idea!" he yelled. Startled, Hunk spun to face him, and three pancakes went sailing from the plate in his hand. Lance leapt into the air and caught one between his teeth. The other two landed neatly in his outstretched hands, and he frisbeed them on the pile.

"Listen, Hunk," he said excitedly, leaning forward. "As the awesome balance and support of the team, you and I will be fixing this. Got it? Listen, I'll tell you what to do before the others show up. . ."


	2. Chapter 2

Everyone, even Shiro, showed up late for breakfast that morning, which gave Hunk and Lance plenty of time to put their plan into effect. Lance rushed up to the command deck and explained his suspicions to Allura. She gave a decisive nod.

"I think you're right. I was wondering what was the matter yesterday, but I didn't get a chance to talk to Shiro."

"Listen," said Lance, with a thoughtful frown. "I know fighting Zarkon is important and all that, but is there any way we could go on some missions that didn't require Voltron? Maybe we could attack a small base – something Hunk and I could take out on our own."  
Allura rested her chin on her hand for a moment, then smiled and pulled up a screen, clicking several buttons on it. "I think I can do better than that, Lance," she said. "Coran and I have been planning on visiting Lylixxlallian."

Lance tried to repeat the name and got his tongue tangled. He worked it back into its proper shape and said, "Huh?"

"It used to be one of Altea's strongest allies. I have already spoken with the leaders, and they expressed interest in meeting Coran and myself in person. Our business there will most likely take us two or three quintants. You would have that time free of missions."

Lance pumped his fist. "Yeah! Awesome, princess! That'll be plenty of time!"

She folded her hands in front of herself and smiled. "Very well, then. I'll inform the others. Though – I presume you do not wish for me to tell them that you asked for this?"

"Right," said Lance. "Especially not Shiro. He'll be all like, 'There must be some Galra around here to attack. There's no time to waste!' Stuff like that."

Allura laughed. "That does sound like Shiro."

Lance tossed a grin at her over his shoulder as he rushed off to tell Hunk. 

At breakfast that morning, the blue paladin watched everyone with a narrowed gaze. Pidge had dark circles under her eyes, and she yawned several times before she even started eating. Keith seemed intent on staring holes into the closest wall, and he was moving rather clumsily; he bumped into the table as he sat down. Shiro. . . Yup, Lance was totally, one hundred percent right about this.

Their intrepid leader, instead of keeping his habitually erect military posture, actually leaned his head against one hand, elbow resting on the table.

"Good morning, everyone!" said Lance with a big grin. He was careful not to speak any louder than usual, but the three of them winced, and Keith cast him a mild glare.

Shiro recovered first. "Hey, Lance," he said.

Pidge half-raised one hand. "Hi."

Keith went back to staring at the wall.

Hunk bustled into the room with loaded plates and set them down before each person. "Here you go," he said cheerfully. "Pancakes!"

Pidge poked the bright pink food several times before getting up the courage to take a bite. When she did, though, she immediately became more cheerful. "Oh my gosh, Hunk! These taste _perfect!_ "

"Yeah, I figured," he replied, grinning. "Someday I'll find some syrup, and then they'll be really good."

"Thanks, Hunk," said Keith. He may have attempted a smile – Lance couldn't quite tell. "They taste great."

Yup. Enthusiasm personified. Lance sighed and ate his own breakfast, wondering if Shiro was actually going to eat, or if he was going to continue cutting his pancakes into a texture more suited to coleslaw.

Hunk spoke up first. "So, this recipe's a keeper? Everyone likes them?"

Pidge gave him a huge grin. "Oh, yeah!"

Keith nodded.

Shiro hastily – and finally – took a bite, then mumbled, "Mm-hmm."

Lance scraped his plate. "Yep, one hundred percent awesomeness, dude."

"What's going on today?" asked Pidge. "Any new targets?"

"Actually, no," said Shiro, pushing back his full plate. "Allura's stopping at the planet Lylixxlallian, so –"

"No way!" yelled Lance, jumping to his feet. "Shiro, how the heck do you say that? How do you even remember it?"

"What?" he asked, obviously confused. "You mean the planet's name?"

Keith stared at Lance and deadpanned, "You mean 'Lylixxlallian'?"

"Showoff."

Shiro glanced once between them and cleared his throat ever so slightly. "We will be remaining on the ship until their business is concluded. We might as well do some extra training."

"Wait a sec," said Pidge. "Exactly how long is this visit going to be?"

"Up to three days, from what Allura was telling me. Why?"

Pidge actually slumped in her chair. "Three days of extra training?" she groaned. "I don't think I'll survive."

Lance cheered her on mentally, hoping that her woeful expression would soften Shiro where Lance's never did.

 _Aaannd_ apparently Pidge's didn't work either. Shiro stood up. "We won't be training all day. The sooner we get started, the sooner we'll be done."

"Fine," she grumbled, heading off to change into her armor. Keith and Shiro followed silently, leaving their mostly uneaten breakfasts behind.

Lance sauntered over to Hunk, hands in his pockets. "Wanna bet that Pidge'll be the easiest?"

"Yeah, no," said Hunk. "She'll just work on more computer project – stuff." He waved his hand vaguely. "But we better get to the training deck before too long, or we'll get _extra_ extra training."

"Yipe!" Lance charged back to his room for his armor.

When he got to the training deck, Allura was speaking over the comms.

"Don't expect to hear from us," said Allura. "But I'll keep a channel open in case you need to call us for anything."

"Thanks, Allura," said Shiro. "This is a Galra-free sector, so we should be fine, but I'm keeping the castle defenses online anyway."

"Very good, paladin."

Coran's voice chimed in. "Have a nice time, all of you!"

The comms shut off, and Pidge summoned her bayard. "Okay." 

Lance lay flat on the ground, feeling as though his muscles had turned into playdough. Stupid training robot with its stupid shock weapon. He felt minorly better as Keith sliced past the robot's defenses, shutting down the simulator.

But any relief he had felt vanished as Shiro spoke. "Okay, let's do level four again. That was all right, but we can do better."

Seriously? Lance pulled himself to his feet, groaning loudly. "Shiro, can we take a break, please?" he asked, trying not to sound like he was whining, even though he was. "It's been, like, six vargas."

"Actually, it's been less than two," said Shiro, raising an eyebrow. "But, yes, we can take a break. After we beat it one more time."

Lance caught Hunk's eye, and the yellow paladin nodded. As the robot dropped to the floor of the training deck, Hunk was already firing. The robot lifted its staff to block the shots, and Lance whipped his own gun up and shot it neatly in the head.

The robot vanished, and Lance looked around to see Keith frozen in position, his sword lifted in a 'ready' position. Behind him, Shiro's hand had just started glowing, and Pidge had barely summoned her own bayard.

"There," said Lance, unable to keep the smug tone from his voice. "We beat it. Break time!"

Shiro shrugged, as though to say, 'Fair's fair', and Keith slumped down against the wall. Pidge flopped onto her stomach, head resting on her arms. Lance passed around pouches of water.

"What's next?" he asked.

No one answered. Shiro was playing aimlessly with his water, turning it around and around. Lance nudged him with his elbow, and he glanced up.

"What?" he asked blankly.

"Just wondering what we're doing next."

"Umm. . ." Shiro rubbed his eyes with one hand. "What haven't we done yet?" 

"We haven't done any flying," said Keith, almost reluctantly.

"Right. We'll do that next."

Lance gave a dramatic sigh. Pidge just moaned, her eyes squeezed shut.

Shiro cast her a concerned look. "Pidge, are you feeling all right?"

"Of course. I'm fine. . ." She smiled brightly. He didn't look convinced. "I'm just tired," she finished in a small voice.

"Me too," said Hunk, catching Lance's eye. Time to put phase one of the plan into effect.

Lance got to his feet. "Hey," he said, as though the idea had just occurred to him. "Maybe we could take the rest of today off, Shiro. We could all use a break."

Shiro looked from Pidge to Lance and back. Hunk yawned convincingly. Keith didn't seem interested one way or the other. Lance noticed this with a frown. Under normal circumstances, Keith would have been arguing (loudly) against losing an entire day of training.

Lance gave himself a mental handshake. That did it. He was definitely promoted to taking over Team Voltron's well-being. However, he had to make his moves carefully, so as not to raise suspicion. He changed his expression so that he looked far less alert than he really was, and flopped bonelessly against the ground.

Shiro ran his human hand through his hair and sighed. "Fine. We'll do a few flying exercises, and then you can be free."

Lance and Hunk exchanged an air-high-five behind his back. 

Training exercises were over. Hunk rushed into the kitchen and began his cooking and baking right away. Lance followed him, giving orders. With his newfound mentality of paying strict attention to the paladins' health, he had monitored the amount of food eaten by the other three team members that day, and made a list accordingly.

Shiro: one bite at breakfast, three at lunch; two pouches of water.

Keith: four bites at breakfast, six at lunch; one pouch of water.

Pidge: all her breakfast, no lunch at all; one and a half pouches of water.

Hunk asked suspiciously if he and Lance were on the list.

"What? No way, dude!" yelped Lance, waving the paper around like a flag as he walked. " _We_ have the common sense to take care of our _own_ health. Right?"

"Gotcha," said Hunk with a grin. "I'll get busy, then."

Lance shoved the list at him. "I'm off to track down the others with my ninja skills." He waggled his fingers, then became more serious. "Just to make sure they're taking advantage of this little 'break'."

Hunk gave him a thoughtful frown. "What if they aren't?"

Lance all but skipped away. "Leave it to me, pal!"


	3. Chapter 3

Pidge was the easiest to find. All Lance had to do was wander into the Green Lion's hangar, and there she was. The youngest member of the team was sitting cross-legged on a crate, hunched over her laptop, fingers flying at an incredible rate. Lance contemplated pulling the power, but remembered in time that a) her laptop had a battery, and b) she would kill him. He settled for a more diplomatic approach. Allura would be proud.

"Hey, Pidge," he said, sauntering over. She spared him one glance before going back to her work with a mumbled, 'hi'.

"Watcha doing?"

Another glance, more annoyed this time. "Working."

"During freetime?"

He tapped her computer screen, and she jerked back. "Lance! Cut it out."

"Don't you want to play a game of space checkers with me?"

She grumbled, rubbing her eyes. "Lance . . . look, I have to finish this."

"Okay," he said agreeably. "What's your ETA?"

"Uhh." She swallowed a huge yawn and peered at her screen again. "I should be able to finish this in an hour."

"I'll check in with you then," said Lance, standing up. Pidge might get too caught up in her work, but she was astonishingly accurate when it came to time estimates for her work, so . . . On to the next paladin.

Keith . . . Where would Keith be . . .? He wasn't in the lounge, or on the bridge, or in the observatory. He wasn't in his room, either – unless – Lance frowned. Unless he was just refusing to acknowledge Lance's knocking.

Or maybe he was asleep. That would be good. Lance had just made up his mind to go check when he passed the training deck. He glanced in to see Keith fighting the training robot. Even as Lance watched, Keith stumbled clumsily, barely brushing the robot's weapon aside with his bayard, and got jolted back by the training robot's staff.

Lance stuck his head into the room and called, "End training sequence!"

The robot disappeared in the middle of a downward swing which Keith would definitely have failed to block. Lance entered the room all the way.

Predictably, Keith snapped at him. "I was _fine_."

"Yep. Uh-huh. I know."

Keith gave a faint sigh of exasperation and blinked his eyes as though to clear them. "Then why –?"

"Because," said Lance, rocking back on his heels, hands tucked in his pockets. "Didn't you hear that we were off the rest of the day?"

". . . Yeah?"

Lance raised an eyebrow. Keith just looked at him, and Lance lifted his eyebrow a little higher, then a little higher. When it couldn't go any further, the second eyebrow joined the first.

No response except for a blank stare.

Keith obviously wasn't getting the hint.

Lance sighed loudly. "We get to take the day off. That means _not_ spending it doing all the things we do on normal days."

"It means that we can spend it doing what we want," said Keith, and reactivated his bayard.

Lance spoke over him. "It can even mean doing stuff with the rest of the team. We can play cards or something."

"I'm training," said Keith stubbornly.

"Nope. No, you're not." Lance stood between Keith and where the robot entered from. He hummed a little tune, well aware that he was being exasperating, but not sure how else to knock sense into Keith's head. Knock sense. . . oh. Well, if there was no other way, there was no other way. Knock sense it was. Lance just hoped he didn't get too many bruises while trying to force Keith to rest.

"If you are going to train," he suggested, "you can do it with me."

Keith looked surprised, but then shrugged. "Fine, whatever."

And so it began.

Under normal circumstances, Lance would have bet against himself when it came to which of the paladins would last longer against the other in hand-to-hand sparring. (Although he'd _never_ have told Keith that.) However, despite the red paladin's superior abilities, he was so tired and unfocused that Lance had him pinned on the ground in less than fifteen ticks.

He stepped back right away, letting Keith get up, and they fought again. And again. And again . . . Geez, this guy was _stubborn_.

Keith won two times. Lance won seventeen times. When he won for the eighteenth time, Keith just lay where Lance had thrown him, staring up at the ceiling with a vaguely confused look. Lance hauled him to his feet.

"Let's get a drink," he suggested. "Then we can all head to the lounge."

Keith followed without so much as rolling his eyes, and Lance suffered mild heart failure as a result. The plan was working even better than he'd thought it would. He deposited Keith in the kitchen, under Hunk's watchful eyes, and stuffed a pouch of water in his hands.

"Drink that down, pal," he said with a grin. "I'll go find Shiro and Pidge. Meet us in the lounge in sixty ticks!" 

After checking in on Pidge and warning her that she had exactly five doboshes left, (she replied, "Five _minutes,_ Lance. They're not the same thing" and Lance said, "Whatever") Lance headed towards Shiro's room. This looking-after-the-team thing was going to work. Lance was just glad that the next part of the plan involved sitting still and relaxing. He hadn't necessarily planned on having to spar with Keith for that long, and he was getting tired.

He rapped on Shiro's door, and heard a muffled 'Come in.' Lance opened the door and suppressed the urge to sigh. Shiro was doing push-ups. Honestly.

"Hey, leader-man," he said. "Wanna join us? We're all going to the lounge to play games and stuff."

"Sure," said Shiro, not even breathing hard. "Just let me finish. . ."

Lance waited.

Shiro counted under his breath, "Forty-eight, forty-nine, fifty."

Make a note, Lance. Obviously Shiro's impression of relaxation was to do fifty push-ups at a time. In under one minute. When this was all over, Lance was going to take all the paladins to meet his family. He grinned inwardly. His little siblings would totally not let anyone get away with working while they wanted to play.

Heck, Lance had done that all the time to his older siblings, and – come to think of it – the practice was now standing him in good stead. A mental image of Keith being overwhelmed by five- and six-year-olds popped into his head, and he smirked a little.

Shiro put on his vest. "Okay, Lance, lead the way."

Strike three. 

They played gin rummy. It took a while to explain the rules, mostly because Pidge kept interrupting – she had only played progressive rummy before, and for some reason the differences in rules seemed to fascinate her. Lance finally dealt the cards, and the first round was played in relative silence.

Hunk, who almost always lost, won easily, with Lance taking a close second place. The same pattern followed for the second and third rounds. Pidge started getting fidgety after the second, looking everywhere but at her cards, and nudged Lance lightly.

"How many rounds in a game?" she whispered.

"As many as you want," Lance replied. "Why? Bored with my company already?" He put a hand to his heart and earned a sharp elbow in the ribs for his trouble. "Ouch!"

"You know what," said Hunk, as they concluded the third round. "I made some snacks and stuff. I'll go grab some."

"Good idea!" said Lance. "I'll stay here." (To guard the others and make sure they don't escape.)

He collected everyone's cards and shuffled them elaborately and with a great deal of show. The others watched him with passive interest. Lance sneaked a look at the clock, which Pidge had altered to show Earth time. It was the equivalent of two in the afternoon. Right on schedule.

When Hunk returned, Lance urged everyone onto the couch and passed out cups of fruit juice. What kind of fruit it used, he had no idea, but it tasted good, so –

"I think you'll like it," he told Shiro. "It tastes sort of like – I dunno, pineapple or something citrusy."

Shiro took a sip. "You're right."

Lance stood there with his arms folded, a little worried at the disinterested tone. Shiro looked up quizzically, and Lance gestured to the cup. "Come on, Shiro," he said, lowering his voice. "Are you getting sick or something?"

"What? No."

Lance flopped down next to him. "All right, then, drink it up."

"Lance . . ." Shiro sighed, but drank it all the same.

Lance scanned the room. Keith and Pidge had finished their drinks. Well, that was something, anyway. Hunk passed out some kind of cookie-sandwich-things, and they all sat around, eating them. Lance gave Shiro a hard stare, and Shiro raised an eyebrow and handed him his empty cup.

"I drank all of it," he said, mildly defensive. "Is something wrong?"

"Yes. You barely ate anything today. I was _watching_."

". . . Oh. And why is that?"

Lance patted him on the arm and stood up. "Because someone needs to."

Shiro looked bewildered, but before he could say anything, Lance slipped quickly away to join Hunk. "Good job, pal," he said. "Now, you keep them occupied while I start phase – wait, are we on phase two or three of the plan?"

"Uhh – four, I guess? If we count cards as phase two, and snack as phase three."

"Okay. I'll start phase four. You just make sure they're kept busy – have 'em help you in the kitchen or something till I get back." 

Lance sauntered over to the green lion and sat down, staring up into its large eyes. "Hi, Green," he said. "Um. I know I'm not bonded with you or anything – at least, not like Pidge is – but this sort of concerns Pidge, so could you help with that? She really needs to get some sleep, but she's always working on something instead. Probably 'cause she's worried about her family. . . Guess you'd know all about that. Anyway, if you could kind of calm her down a little?"

Green, to his surprise, replied faintly – he could feel her just as he could when Voltron was formed. It sounded almost as though she purred with approval, and he turned a backwards somersault, getting to his feet. "Thanks, Green! And can you pass the message on to Red and Black?"

Another purr.

Apparently, Green lost no time, because as Lance headed down the hall, he felt brief moments of contact from both Red and Black; they had the same feel of approval in his mind, and he grinned. 


	4. Chapter 4

Hunk rushed around the kitchen, trying to keep everyone busy. Earlier that day, he had found what seemed to be a machine for making noodles, and Pidge was now cleaning it up. Shiro sat at the table, cutting an orange block of cheese into small cubes while listening to Pidge's excited commentary about the programming capabilities of the machine.

Grabbing a pot, Hunk tossed the cut cheese into it and set it over his rigged-up stove burner. "Here, Keith," he said, handing him a spoon. "Stir that so it doesn't burn, okay? And let me know when it's all melted."

Keith set to work, staring at the cheese as though he were afraid it would burst into flame if he looked away for even a moment. Hunk nodded and mixed up the ingredients for noodles. Macaroni and cheese had always been one of Lance's favorite meals, and he'd asked Hunk to make it tonight. The yellow paladin, of course, was always more than willing to experiment his way through things, and he'd finally found the perfect cheese. It was made from some sort of nut milk, but it tasted like cheddar. And, for once, it was actually the right color.

Lance burst through the kitchen doors and winked at Hunk. Before he could say anything, Keith waved his spoon to get Hunk's attention and said, "Here. It's all melted."

Hunk put it in the warmer and sent Keith to help Pidge. Lance hovered behind Hunk, trying to dip a piece of bread into the sauce, but Hunk slapped his hand away.

Lance was about to protest, loudly, when Shiro joined them. "I'm heading up to the bridge to check on things," he said, rubbing the back of his head. "Somehow I forgot to check earlier."

"I'll come with you," said Lance. When Shiro gave him an odd look – Lance _never_ volunteered to be on the bridge – the blue paladin added, "To keep you company." (And to make sure you don't get distracted and start running long-range scans or something.) 

That part of the plan didn't work out so well. Shiro insisted on running 'a couple' of long-range scans, as well as a full-planet scan, to ensure that there were no Galra nearby. Really, Lance couldn't blame him, but it was boring all the same. Between the long-range scans and the diagnostic of the castle defenses, they were on the bridge for nearly two hours.

Lance was against the far wall doing shoulder stands when Hunk appeared in the doorway and signalled to him. With a quick movement, Lance tipped over onto his stomach, scrambled to his feet, and joined him.

"How's everything going?" he asked in a low voice, casting a discreet glance in Shiro's direction. Shiro didn't even look up, but continued moving random objects around the screen in front of him, brow furrowed in concentration.

"Dinner's made," said Hunk. "And I finally got Keith to stop teaching Pidge that new move – you know, the one where he sort of flips through the air and –" He kicked out and waved his arms around a bit. "That one."

"He was teaching her in the kitchen?" demanded Lance, rather put out. "Don't they have _any_ common sense? We're going to have to start giving them their own personal guards!"

Hunk grimaced. "Yeah, well, after Pidge kicked over the first batch of sauce, I made them make another. That's why dinner's a little late." He glanced around the bridge. "You guys almost done here?"

"We are very much done," said Lance with a smirk. "Shiro just doesn't know it yet . . . Hey, Shiro?"

"Hmm?"

"Dinner's made."

"Go ahead," Shiro replied, typing something. "I'll join you later."

Lance and Hunk shared an eyeroll, and Lance crept up behind Shiro, hands in his pockets. Standing on his toes, he rested his chin on Shiro's shoulder, and the older paladin barely suppressed a yelp as he jumped and turned around.

"Lance!"

"Sorry," said Lance, completely impenitent. "But we reeeaaally want you to come eat with us, because no one can eat until you're there."

"Of course you can," said Shiro. "And I'm almost done anyway." He sank into a nearby chair and leaned forward, resting his head in his hands. "I just – have to keep an eye on the scans." He glanced up at Lance. "One of you can relieve me after dinner."

"Nope. No compromises. Stay here if you want, but we're all going to sit at the table and wait until you join us."

He waltzed away, and Hunk joined him outside the door. They waited. Lance counted on his fingers. Sure enough, less than ten ticks after they'd left, Shiro let out a heavy sigh and moved slowly to the door. The moment he emerged, he was grabbed by Lance, who threw an arm around his shoulders and talked nonstop about what a good cook Hunk was.

Shiro gave him a sideways look. "You do realize you're being rather transparent about all this," he said mildly.

"Huh, what? Transparent?"

"I know perfectly well that you're trying to make sure everyone's taken care of, and I appreciate it. But you don't have to be secretive about it."

Lance hummed a little. "Yeah, well, maybe you guys could help a little by not making it so hard?" he suggested. "Then I won't have to try tricking you into it."

Shiro actually laughed. "I'll work on it. And thanks, both of you." 

Dinner went well. Shiro, mindful of his promise, ate everything – praise heaven for minor miracles. Pidge and Keith were hungry, especially after their impromptu exercise, so they didn't argue with Hunk when he gave them second servings. Lance swung his feet happily, eating his own meal with gusto.

The conversation was casual and relaxed. This may or may not have been partially due to the fact that Lance was making a valiant effort to _not_ be annoying. He didn't interrupt when Pidge chattered on and on about her latest decryption program (although he was glad when Keith said, "Pidge! English!") He didn't groan when Shiro mentioned training. He didn't even gloat about beating Keith earlier that day. Eventually, his unnatural silence caught the others' attention, and Lance made the excuse that he'd been 'thinking'. This earned him a worried look from Pidge, which he ignored.

His plan was working. He could handle another quintant or two at this. He'd have to catch up on sleep later, of course – it was a well-known secret that the black, red, and green paladins had bad habits when it came to sleeping during the night, but if he was able to get the team back to full strength, it would totally be worth it. 

Or not.

When his alarm rang at midnight, he could barely force himself to get out of bed. Ugh. . . He groaned and clambered into his fuzzy slippers and robe, then groped for the door and stumbled through the halls, eyes half closed.

Pidge's door was open, and he tapped on the wall, glancing in. She hadn't even changed for bed yet; instead, she sat on the floor typing. What the heck did she do on there all the time, anyway?

"Oh, Pidge-y," he said. "How 'bout getting some sleep?"

She stretched, and he winced at the crack her spine gave. "I will later. Wait, what are you doing up?"

"Checking on you."

"Why?"

"Because you need to sleep, and you don't do it enough," said Lance bluntly, striding into the room. "Laptop, now."

"You can't tell me what to do!" she protested, sounding exactly like one of his younger sisters. Fine. He knelt down beside her and tickled her ribs mercilessly until she was forced to release her computer. Ignoring her shriek of protest, he shut it, putting it on 'sleep', and backed away to the door.

"I'll give this to you tomorrow if you sleep the rest of the night. _And_ I'll be checking, so don't even think about sneaking up to the bridge," he said. "Now, are you going to bed, or do I need to tuck you in?"

"Lance!" she groaned. He jabbed at her ribs again, and she let out a yelp of laughter. "Lance, stop, stop – okay, fine!"

"Good girl," he said. "Now go to sleep, or I'll tell Shiro on you."

"Tattle-tale," she grumbled.

Lance paused at Hunk's door on the way back to his room and checked to make sure his alarm was set for one o'clock. They were alternating – Lance took the patrols at twelve, two, and four o'clock, and Hunk took those at one, three and five o'clock. Their plan was absolutely foolproof. 

Except that, when the two o'clock alarm rang, it was even harder to get up. It was nearly fifteen minutes before he could force himself out from his warm blankets and into the empty hallways.

Pidge was actually snoring a little when he listened outside her door, and he grinned to himself as he crept to Shiro's door.  
Shiro's light was on. Figured.

Lance tapped on the door. There was no answer, and Lance cocked his head, listening. "Shiro?" he called quietly. "You awake in there?"

The door opened abruptly. Shiro stood there, looking more than a little spooked. "What's wrong?" he asked, already reaching for his armor.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," said Lance, lifting his hands. "Nothing's wrong, I just wanted to see if you were all set. . . Which you aren't. Another bad dream?"

"I guess," said Shiro, with a self-conscious laugh. "I can't remember them, though – at least not most of the time."

"Is that why you haven't slept well the past few days?" Lance asked, casually pushing past Shiro into the room. "You have a nightmare, wake up, and spend the rest of the night trying not to go back to sleep. We're going to have to fix that."

"I'm fine," he insisted. "You don't have to do anything."

"Maybe not, but I want to. And you're not fine." Lance turned on his annoying smile and said, in a sing-song voice, "Can't fool me!"  
Shiro slumped on the bed, watching him. "O-kaaay."

"So," said Lance, sitting cross-legged on the floor. "I'm going to talk, and you're going to listen. Got it? Na-ah, don't argue."

A tired sigh. Shiro knew he had already lost. "I could order you back to bed."

"I won't listen," said Lance comfortably. "So. I think I'll tell you about my family back home. They'd like to meet you, and I'm pretty sure you'd like them. There's my dad and mom, of course . . ."

He rambled on for nearly half an hour before Shiro finally nodded off. Lance poked him with a finger, tipping him sideways onto the bed, and dragged his blanket over him. As he left, he turned the lights down, but not all the way.

Keith's room was empty. Lance was so tired by now that he felt like his next yawn would split his head neatly in half, but – he had a mission. He set off, searching through the castle until he reached the training deck. Clanging sounded from the room, and Lance sighed.

What the quiznak? Practicing at this unearthly hour?

"Keith!" he scolded, walking in. Oops, bad idea, bad idea! Lance was forced to throw himself into a sideways dive to avoid Keith's sudden punch.

"Oh – sorry," said Keith. "Didn't know it was you."

Lance yawned again. "Dude, come on. Why do I have to keep dragging you out of here? Did you ever hear of sleep?"  
Keith frowned. "I always do this."

"Yup, and that's a problem. Hunk and I are, like, the only sane members of this team."

Keith shoved one palm against his forehead and ran it down his face, all but growling with exasperation. " _Lance_ , I –"

He cut off and spun around. "Activate training sequence."

By now Lance was becoming seriously annoyed. No, no; he was supposed to be helping, not making things worse. He took a deep breath –

You know what? The heck with it.

"END TRAINING SEQUENCE!" he screamed at the top of his lungs. Keith actually staggered, almost dropping his bayard in shock. The gladiator vanished and Lance grabbed the shorter paladin's arm and dragged him bodily from the training room.

He slammed his fist against the control panel, shutting the door, and stood in front of it, arms crossed. "I'll let you in tomorrow – for a little while – if you go to bed and stay there until a reasonable hour."

Keith crossed his own arms. They engaged in a staring match. Lance lost, but only because he yawned again.

"Look," he said. "I'll stand here until morning if need be, so you might as well leave. Unless you want to try forcing your way past me."

Keith's face indicated that he would very much like to try it. He stepped forward, and Lance moved his hand slightly so that it hovered over the alarm button set into the control panel. Keith froze.

"On second thought," Lance told him cheerfully, "I'm too tired to fight right now, so if you try getting past me, I'll put the whole castle on alert."

Keith gazed disbelievingly at him. "You know what? If it's that important, never mind." He stalked off in the direction of his room.  
Lance took a quick peek at his watch. Nearly three o'clock. He really, really wanted to go back to bed, but – what if Keith sneaked back? He slumped down in the training room doorway. He'd stay for a few minutes . . . 


	5. Chapter 5

Eight o'clock the next morning found a grumpy and stiff Lance knocking on Pidge's door. She opened it, and even in his groggy state of mind he was pleased to note that she looked a lot less tired than on the previous day.

He held out her laptop and glanced over his shoulder. "Pidge, do you think you could seal the training room doors for me?"

She looked him up and down and sighed sympathetically. "You tried to keep someone out of there last night, didn't you? Keith?"

"Yup."

She smirked. "No problem. Give me five minutes. I'll seal the doors once I'm sure no one's in there."

"You're my friend for life, Pidge," he vowed fervently. "Sleeping on the floor didn't do me any favors." 

The second day passed much like the first. Lance cajoled, threatened, blackmailed and bribed. He consulted Hunk. He took Pidge's laptop during meals and refused to give it back until she had eaten what he deemed to be a proper amount. He dragged Keith out of the Red Lion's hangar and made him join the others in the sitting room. He unlocked the training room doors for an hour in the morning and the afternoon. He shouted down Keith's protests. He followed Shiro around, helping him with various (unnecessary) tasks and tried to convince him that there was nothing that really needed doing right now. He tried not to fall asleep while the others played cards and lost to Pidge. He helped Hunk in the kitchen.

Man, he was _tired.  
_  
After dinner, he forced himself to stay up until everyone had gone to their rooms, then collapsed on his bed without even undressing and fell asleep.

When his alarm rang at midnight, he groggily hauled himself upright and staggered off to check the others. Pidge was sleeping, her glasses sliding off her nose. He set them aside and carefully removed a random extension cord that had somehow tangled itself around her blankets.

Keith was reading. Lance decided not to say anything yet (at least Keith was remaining relatively still) and went to Shiro's room.  
The black paladin was nowhere to be found, and Lance had to repress the urge to groan. He shuffled down a few hallways until he heard voices coming from the kitchen.

Slumping through the doorway, he found Hunk bustling around and making something while Shiro sat at the table. Like Lance, both were fully dressed.

"What's up?" asked Lance.

"Are you making your rounds again?" asked Shiro with a little smile.

Lance flapped a hand dismissively and turned to Hunk. "Hey, buddy. Why are you still up?"

Hunk peered into a small pot, added a purplish powder, and stirred it a few times. "Making tea." He sniffed at the steam and added, "I think . . .?"

Lance slid into a chair. "Well, Pidge is actually sleeping and Keith's reading, so we're all good except for _you,_ Shiro."

"And except for you and Hunk," the black paladin countered.

"Hey, we're cool," said Lance.

"Yeah, totally," said Hunk. "Here, try this."

Lance sniffed appreciatively at it and took a sip. The three of them sat in companiable silence for a while longer, drinking tea. Finally Hunk stood up, stretching and yawning.

"Well, I'm gonna go hit the sack," he said. "But I'll leave this on the warmer in case you guys need any more."

As he left, Lance got to his feet as well. "Coming, Shiro?"

He tilted his head to the side for a moment, as though considering. "Actually, I think I will," he said, sounding almost surprised. "Hunk was right about the tea – it's pretty relaxing."

Lance brought up his mental chalkboard. Score one for Hunk. 

Two o'clock found everyone sleeping . . . except for Lance as he made his rounds again. He all but crawled back to bed, wondering if he should even set his alarm again or if it was safe to let it go. No, he'd better set it. . . Might as well do the whole plan thing, right?

Lance really hated his ideas sometimes. He was going to _smash_ his alarm clock, darn it.

When he finally dragged himself out of bed at four-fifteen, Pidge and Keith were the only ones asleep. Hunk was in the kitchen, claiming that he'd had this idea for a really healthy breakfast and couldn't sleep until he made it. Shiro was on the bridge, and he ended up sending Lance back to bed instead of the other way around, so getting up hadn't actually accomplished anything. He really needed to be more decisive! More obnoxiously forceful – well, he guessed it was a little hard to force Shiro to do anything he didn't want to, but still, there had to be a way. . .

He fell asleep before coming to a conclusion. 

The third day found everyone looking a bit less worn out, except for Lance and Hunk. In fact, Lance was so tired that he nodded off while sitting against the training room wall, watching as Shiro and Pidge paired up against Hunk and Keith.

He woke with a jerk a few minutes later to see them all eyeing him.

"Just resting my eyes," he said glibly, jumping to his feet. "Okay, Shiro, my turn to go against you, right?"

The rest of the day was the same – Lance found himself nearly dropping off every time he remained still. He lost badly at checkers to Pidge, who smirked at him with an all-too-knowing expression.

"Getting tired, Lance?" she whispered.

"Your move," was his only answer. She jumped five checkers and ended the game. He pouted, making her laugh, and congratulated himself for successfully dodging the question. 

That afternoon, Lance had to wake Hunk, who had fallen asleep on the kitchen table. Then he sat down to help with dinner, and fell asleep in exactly the same spot. Hunk barely managed to wake him before Shiro walked in. The leader of Voltron didn't say anything, but Lance had the uncomfortable feeling that he knew exactly what was going on. As soon as he had left, Lance splashed his face with cold water.

"Good thing Coran and Allura will be back tonight," he groaned, scrubbing at his eyes. "Then _they_ can have a turn chasing everyone around."

That evening, Allura and Coran called to say that they would not arrive until the following morning.

Okay, that just figured.

"I trust everything is going well?" the princess asked.

Lance knew that the question was aimed at him, and he answered in his brightest voice. "As well as can be with you gone, princess. Once you return –"

He could almost see the roll of her eyes as she interrupted, "Very well, then."

When she signed off and the others had left the bridge, Lance and Hunk slumped over to each other.

"We can make it one more night. Can't we?" mumbled Lance.

"Sure we can," said Hunk.

A long moment of silence. Eventually they both slid their gazes sideways to meet the other's.

"Not happening?" said Lance.

"Oh, no, it's happening," said Hunk quickly. "I just thought – maybe I'll make a pot of that coffee-like drink that Coran likes so much."

"A big pot," agreed Lance. "And – uh – get it started right now, could'ja?"

With a fervent nod, Hunk left. 

Everyone brought their various projects to the lounge that night. Pidge had her computer, as usual. Keith sat behind her, toying with his knife as he watched her work. Shiro had a data pad; he had been trying to learn basic Altean so that it would be easier to run the various computer devices on the ship. Lance and Hunk sat stiff and straight on opposite couches, glaring at each other to keep themselves awake.

Around nine o'clock, Lance said, in what (he thought) was a convincingly surprised tone, "Wow! It's sure getting late."

No one moved. Lance and Hunk exchanged hopeless looks. Shiro shifted to a more comfortable position. Keith and Pidge watched the others for a moment and then put their heads together, speaking in quiet whispers. They sounded like they were planning something, and Lance really, really hoped that Keith was NOT trying to bribe Pidge into unlocking the training room.

Pidge shut her laptop with a decisive click and left, followed closely by the red paladin. Oh, they were definitely up to something . . . But he was too exhausted to think about it . . . He'd check on them in a little while.

Somehow he fell asleep again, and Hunk woke him by the simple expedient of kicking his foot. It was now close to ten o'clock, and Shiro still hadn't moved a muscle except to switch screens. Lance staggered to his feet. If he didn't get to bed _now_ , he was going to die. Pure and simple. And, since he couldn't leave the room until Shiro did . . .

"Are you going to stay here all night?" he asked.

"Yes; at least until Allura and Coran get back," Shiro replied. "We've been here long enough as it is – it would be best if we could decide on our next destination right away."

That did it. Lance knew he'd never argue him down from this one. He had only one option left. "Hey, Shiro, look at this," he said.  
He looked up right away, and Hunk, who was standing ready behind their leader, snatched the data pad. Lance made a flying tackle, flattening Shiro to the couch, and shouted, "Hunk! A little help here!"

The much bigger paladin clambered over Lance, holding Shiro down with ease. Shiro stopped struggling, gave a resigned sigh and peered up at Lance from the cushions.

"Okay, what was that for?" he asked.

Lance felt a little delirious, and he wasn't sure he was making sense. "You're going to sleep if its the last thing I do! I mean, if its the last thing you do!"

"Umm . . ." said Shiro. "Hunk? Get off me, please."

Hunk rolled off with a defeated moan and thumped to the ground. Too tired to try anything else, Lance collapsed onto the other couch, his legs hanging off the edge. He was going to stay here forever.

The door opened, and Keith and Pidge strolled in.

"Reinforcements have arrived!" said Pidge with a grin. "We thought you guys would try waiting till Shiro left, so we listened outside the door."

"Excuse me?" said Shiro.

"Guys . . ." groaned Lance. "You are making this job, like, really hard."

"Don't worry," said Keith, holding up a hand and smirking faintly. "Pidge had a good idea."

"Yeah!" agreed Pidge. She darted outside the door and came back with an armload of pillows and blankets, which she deposited on Lance's head. He didn't move. Unless Zarkon himself attacked – and maybe not even then – the blue paladin was going to remain exactly where he was.

A hand grabbed his wrist and pulled him upright, shedding blankets in all directions. Pidge tossed some pillows in a pile against one arm of the couch. The moment she released him, Lance fell with his head against them. He lay there bonelessly as she covered him with some fuzzy blankets – his own, he realized.

Keith did the same for Hunk on the other end of the long couch. Lance thought that he should be busy yelling at the other paladins for _not going to bed_ , but it was so nice to lie there and . . .

Lance forgot what he had been thinking about. He just watched as Pidge made herself a little nest on the short end of the couch, piling up so many blankets and pillows that it was a wonder she could sleep at all. Hunk was already snoring, and Shiro was sitting on the couch opposite Lance, still looking surprised.

"You collected everyone's blankets?" he said.

"Yup," said Keith. "Move over."

Shiro got up automatically. Keith set up that end of the couch for him. Pidge had bounced out of her nest and rushed off to the kitchen, and now she returned with a cup of tea that she shoved into Shiro's hands.

"Hunk made some fresh today," she said, brushing a strand of hair from her eyes. "He said it helped you sleep. Now, drink it or I'll put the bridge on lockdown for the next decaphebe."

Lance was so shocked by her words that he _almost_ sat up. "Yikes, Pidge!"

Her smile was deceptively sweet. "Just following your example."

Shiro glanced from one paladin to another and took a sip of tea. "Technically I could override that," he said, "but we won't worry about it for now. As the head of Voltron, I'm ordering you – yes, _all_ of you, Keith – to be quiet and go to sleep." His smile became almost mischievous, and he added, "Or I'll put everyone on triple training for the next full movement."

"Oh, _no_ ," groaned Lance.

"Hey," said Shiro, lifting his hands in a shrug, "I have to keep ahead of you guys, don't I?" 

When Allura and Coran returned to the ship, they were somewhat surprised to find all five paladins sleeping in the lounge. Lance and Hunk were on the right-hand couch and Pidge was buried in a pile of pillows on the short one; Shiro was on the left-hand couch, stretched out full-length with one arm flung across his face. Keith had fallen asleep on the floor, bundled in about six blankets. Or maybe he had just fallen off the couch – it was hard to tell.

"Hmm," said Allura, stepping over him to remove Pidge's glasses before they slid off the end of her nose. "It seems that Lance's plan worked very well."

"It certainly does," Coran agreed, wrestling Keith onto the couch and shoving a pillow under his head. The red paladin, surprisingly, did not wake up. The two Alteans stood for a moment, watching them.

At last Allura turned to Coran. "Neither of us has gotten much exercise in the past few quintants," she said. "Shall we try out a few of the training room simulations?"

Coran agreed.

What the Alteans _actually_ ended up doing, however, was spending an hour or so devising a way around Pidge's ingenious locking code. When they had finally cracked it, they found that they were too tired to exercise. Instead, they headed to the kitchen and spent the rest of the night drinking Hunk's tea and talking, the mice curled up on the table between them. 


End file.
